


golden ryo

by ireeene



Series: perhaps we were destined to meet [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Romance, i kept thinking about sakura lol, im bad at this tagging thing, im sorry but kankusaku's lit, it's 2am im so tired but ideas man, non-disclosed female character !!, sand siblings deserve more LOVE, thieves and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26905204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireeene/pseuds/ireeene
Summary: “You know, back at the bar, they told me you used to be a smooth-talker back in the day,” She’d pointed out one day as they laid on the roof, well, he laid, she sat by his side, counting ryo.“I am, you’re just too ryo-crazed to notice it, lolly.” He countered almost mechanically, lips lifted into a small smile as he watched her expertly count the bills and coins.“You’re worth more than one billion ryo to me.” She spoke spontaneously, and he could simply watch as he expression remained completely still before he allowed himself to chuckle; “Is that so?”“Okay no, but! It’s not like I’m ever going to be made the offer of choosing between you and one billion ryo so hypothetically, you are.” Lifting himself off the ground, Kankuro simply huffed as he leaned close, close enough to smell the lingering scent of beer from her lips; “I’d be mad at you for saying shit like that, but we met because of your ryo obsession so, I’ll let it slide.”And perhaps, as he pressed his lips to hers beneath the moonlit skies he knew, and she did too, that golden ryo coins were the very twist of destiny they both needed.
Relationships: Gaara & Kankurou (Naruto), Kankurou (Naruto) & Original Female Character(s), Kankurou (Naruto)/Original Character(s), Kankurou (Naruto)/Reader
Series: perhaps we were destined to meet [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934182
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	golden ryo

Ryo.

All she saw were ryo.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so phased with her choice for passion; for there were so many people who prioritized the golden coins to beyond his mind could fathom, and Kankuro prided himself with not being one of those empty souls that found joy in the bounce of a yellow chip between their fingers, but rather in the pure little joys of life, such as watching his brother’s eyebrow bone crease as he noted that a singular cactus was missing from his collection, or how the handful of genin he’d managed to have under his wing would gawk at his remarkable puppeteer abilities; or even the small pleasure of a chilling beer at the end of a hot day.

The Suna tavern was a place he frequently visited; he’d even made friends in the obscure little establishment, from the kid at the back who always seemed to be ruining everyone in a too serious for his liking game of poker, to the kind, middle-aged waitress who sported a killer smile; urging foreign customers to buy more liquor with the hint of a grin.

Kankuro knew most souls who came in here, the faces having implanted themselves onto his head along those of his family, puppets and Konoha shinobi he cared to remember; any foreigners were quickly noted by his analytic mind but he usually paid no mind to them, most often, they were just in here for a quick drink before they’d take their leave and head back to their respective village; Kankuro had never been one for attachments which required effort so most often than not, he strayed away from befriending these souls that he knew he would never get to meet again.

And yet, his mind seemed to throw away such morals upon seeing _her_.

Her hair was what he’d noted first, lifted in two buns at each side of her head, and the hairstyle reminded him vaguely of that one kid his sister had once beaten up, but also of the very twin ears sitting atop his own head; his eyes, careful, analytic, settled on her figure as she stood opposite that one poker-playing kid and he could only chuckle; did she know what she was getting herself into?

With a smirk attached to painted-lips, Kankuro silently went back to sipping from the dark glass of his cup, glancing ever so momentarily at the girl, almost pitying her choice of indulging into a game in which she would lose all, dignity included; perhaps he should intervene, drag her out of the game before she’d have to sell her soul to the demons of Sahara to pay the debt she’d gather up; and perhaps, his help would be returned by a delightful little thanks.

Only, Kankuro had miscalculated the whole of how the intense game of poker would turn out; with each sip of beer he could see the kid, Kane was his name, an apprentice at the blacksmith’s store but also his one and only son, his frown seemed to only fall more and more, his thick eyebrows furrowing at the top of his nose, and the girl’s expression, the foreigner, remained completely expressionless; brows and lips settled into a firm straight line, disallowing her opponent any sort of access to her mind, to her thoughts; Kankuro’s left brow crooked up as he allowed himself a surprised chuckle, the game had been finished and _she_ ’d won.

There was no trace of happiness, or victory, or anything— in her features as she took the pile upon pile of ryo she’d gained, gathering them into what he noted to be a cat shaped coin purse, and lifting herself off the table with little to no reaction before carrying herself to the bar, beside him; his eyes never budged from her form; curiously gazing, admiring, waiting for pretty lips to retort something along the lines of ‘what you looking at’ straight at him; giving him the perfect chance to strike up a conversation and sweep her off her feet with little compliments and sweet wordings.

Only, she never did retort.

This woman, with her _space-buns_ and her piercings along both her earlobes and her belly button —a detail which had him inquiring whether she had piercings _elsewhere, which he would later confirm_ — was nothing like the many women of Suna; hot headed and tough, quickly-tempered and most importantly— very apprehensive of some guy who’d be gawking at them the way he was her, but rather, she didn’t seem to mind, or notice; or perhaps, _she just didn’t give a shit._

Settled onto her seat, she ordered a drink of beer, and took almost calculated sips whenever she would count exactly twenty ryos; a sip of beer, twenty ryos, another sip, so on, so forth, without even meaning too, Kankuro found himself counting along with her, noting that when she’d finished she had counted exactly five sets of twenty, or rather, one hundred ryos.

“That’s a lot of money you’ve got there,” He’d finally spoken up, having taken the final sip of his beer and yet, he did not wish to leave just yet.

“Please don’t look at them,” She’d politely spoken, voice soft & sweet, and hadn’t it been the headband hanging loosely onto her forehead and over an eye, Kankuro would have argued that such a voice could not belong to a shinobi.

“ _They’re all mine_.”

There was something both scary and amusing in how she regarded the ryo, with an almost childlike admiration, almost as though the money was a dream she chased after, a passion she lusted after; “Sure, dude, I wasn’t interested in _them_ , anyways.”

He thought it was _smooth_ ; hell, even his sister had claimed he was a smooth talker, and yet, this girl, buns and pigtails or whatever— and all, had looked him in the eye, nodded, downed her drink and _left_ ; remaining as expressionless as ever all throughout, never shedding him a second gaze or even bothering with a voiced response, nope; she had just left, leaving the bartender to chuckle at his poor excuse of a try and urging him to order a second beer.

Kankuro _never_ drank more than one beer.

The following day, he’d deemed his romantic failure of the previous day to be a forgotten memory; that foreigner chick was going to be but a distant thought for he’d probably never see her again, and it was with such positive attributions that he’d strolled into his brother’s office with the same energy as always; exuberant confidence as he listened to his brother— the Kazekage, speak to him with high regard of a mission, the delivery of some sort of scroll to the land of flowers, informing him that his outstanding speed would get the scroll there in just the right time, about a week or two worth of travel; though the mission sounded like a, mind his usage of his brother in law’s words, drag, the few compliments Gaara had thrown about in his regard —as well as his diligent promise to stop leaving cacti on the _fucking_ _ground_ —had managed to do the trick, urging him into an early departure from Suna the very next day.

Three days in and he’d reached the land of earth and he chose to stay at an inn upon arriving; it was in some village whose name he couldn’t care less about, it would only be a day or two’s affair, enough to regain some strength and chakra as well as get in a meal while he was at it; and so he’d strolled into the tavern, ordering whatever it was that they had as well as a fresh beer —he needed it— and upon taking the first sip; he’d noted the ending game of poker at the corner of the room, or more specifically, the twin buns that were carefully gathering the bills of ryo, counting through them with speed and expertise before silently moving from the table, settling elsewhere in the room.

Kankuro had never been one who appreciated defeat, or rejection, yet it seemed he’d become a glutton for triggering both as he found himself moving from his table, his beer in hand, and joining her by her own table; she’d lifted pretty eyes momentarily to gaze up at him, eyebrows lifted in curiosity; “Are you following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, _stingy_.” He was quick to retort, yet, on a logical point of view, he’d moved himself from his own table to hers, following her movements; he was _following_ her: he was acting like old-school Gaara when he’d go around stalking his ‘preys’; Kankuro shuddered at the thought.

“I see you’re developing your richness there.” He’d continued upon noting her hiding away the piles of money she’d made, skillfully pushing them in through her sleeve and somewhere— he dared not ask where.

“I told you, don’t look at them, they’re _mine_.” She reminded, lifting her eyes to look at him more closely; “You’re Kankuro, right? Puppetteer from the sand, how come you’re in the land of earth?” She’d questioned, though her tone was so flat those questions may as well have been facts.

“Mission.” Snidely, he matched her own tone, almost as to drive from her a similar reaction that she did him; an unnecessary rash. Her calmness was almost bothersome, though, he had never been immune to the abnormal calmness of others; he’d lived half his life with a psychopath who knew nothing of emotion differing anger and suffering, and the other with a man who was old enough to father someone yet still inquired why he felt the urge to hug a friend; his life was nothing short of special.

He was rewarded with her silence; and he found himself wishing he’d spoken more, well, at least just enough to urge more replies out of her; barely a short while later, his meal was complete and so was his beer, yet it seemed she was not budging, bright eyes focused on the moon; Kankuro had a broad idea of beauty, for he found the puppets he created to be absolute masterpieces when his sister had frequently called them nothing short of an ugly crumpling; and truth be told, facing her, features too delicate beneath the dim light of the moon with her hair falling scarcely across her features, her lips pressed into a thin line and chin rested onto her palm with a strangely attractive boredom; Kankuro’s cup was empty, and yet, he ordered yet _another_ beer.

One other beer would be nothing if he could drink in more of this sight.

The following day, he’d met her outside of the inn; his puppet strapped to his back and her own backpack strapped to her own as she walked through the fields empty of grass and sand; he’d not seen her at first, but the twin buns were quickly recognized and the minute he’d approached enough, she’d turned to him with a piercing gaze and a threatening frown; that had been perhaps the most expressive he’d seen her.

“You’re following me.” She stated; as though she was speaking fact.

“Ditzy, believe me, if I were following you, you’d like it way too much to say it _like that_.” Perhaps he’d caught onto the hint of a smile; just perhaps.

—“Where are you going?” —“Land of flowers.” —“Me too.”

Perhaps they make the rest of the way together.

And perhaps, Kankuro learns things about this girl; like her name, things about her space-buns and her ryo collection, about where she’s headed and why she spends so many nights at bars all over the country, and perhaps, she knows things about him too, like why he dresses so strange, and the thing he carries all bandaged up in his back; and fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , smooth talker Kankuro is turning into sincere emotional Kankuro and _nope_ , that’s _not_ gonna work out; he doesn’t do relationships, _nope_ , but heck, she talks sweet and tastes sweeter and fuck she’s straddling his lap and she’s whispering shit— shit that sounds suspiciously like _dirty talk_ , and they’re in the middle of nowhere and hell, she doesn’t care because she’s all over him like a goddamned siren, devouring him whole, peach lips are stained purple and her hands are burning through the mesh on his arms and come on— he’s got a better grip than _this_ for fuck’s sake, but _nope_ , looks like he doesn’t, because before he knows it, his hands are gripping her waist and she’s a mess on top of him. He doesn’t remember how he falls asleep, he does remember waking up though; his face paint’s a mess, he’s a mess, he smells of sweat and unmentionable nights, his chest is still rising and falling unevenly at the memories of last night, the scroll’s there, so is his shirt, but his money isn’t.

Perhaps he _never_ learned the most important thing about this girl.

He goes back to Sunagakure in shambles; his dignity is even more shambles than the first time she’d left him in the bar with his tail between his legs, this time it had become quite _literal_ ; he’d never been robbed before, he didn’t like the feeling it brought, for he was a _shinobi_ , supposedly careful, analytic, able to read minds and hearts and yet, he’d not been able to read his own heart fast enough to realize that all of the desires it gave were absolute _bullshit_.

He gets back home earlier than expected; Gaara is pleased, though curious for his brother is in quite the mood; and unless you were an annoying kid or a grouchy grandma with too much to say, there were few chances you would get under the puppeteer’s skin; Gaara is worried, and so, he writes to his eldest sister in concern, assuring her he’s been careful not to leave cacti on the floor and how he understands not his brother’s foul mood, and she writes back, tucked into the envelope is a pair of tickets to a bath-house in the land of hot water, one for himself and the other his brother; written in skilled penmanship is his sister’s advice that he should allow himself and Kankuro some time off.

Gaara is selfless; he cannot leave the village in shambles in favor of vacationing, but he is not going to disallow his brother the small vacation his sister had advised and so, he offers him the tickets, ushers him to drag along one of his friends or perhaps even a girl of his liking and Kankuro is appreciative, giving away one of the two tickets as he tells his brother he needs some ‘alone time’; Gaara, who had waltzed through the meaning of such terms through books like Icha Icha and other countless romantic erotica, believed the sentence to mean something else entirely but of course, he was not judgmental.

A week later and Kankuro found himself in a tub of hot water, surrounded by steam which seemed to fog around him, soon enough falling back onto the small pond and trickling down rocks and what he deemed to be snake plants; it was a peaceful silence, one that urged him to throw away the humiliating memories of the girl who’d taken his money and his dignity along with it; a bitter chuckle spilled from his lips as he opened his eyes and for a minute, he’d double over, believing the sight of the twin buns facing him to be a work of his own imagination but _no_ , _not at all_ , for the little space-buns were indeed real and present, her hair sticking to her cheeks as she looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“ _You’re following me_.” He started, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at her with no sympathy; he would not be fooled twice.

“You’re the kazekage’s brother, you’re rich, of course I’d follow you.” Kankuro knew not whether to be angry at or appreciative of her honesty.

“You’re a _thief_.” He pointed out, poison lacing his words as his eyes settled onto her, hand quickly gripping her arm as he dragged her closer to his spot, quite literally ready to discipline her into returning him his money, for he knew his dignity to be long lost; at least he would retrieve something back.

“And you’ve got the hots for me, whatever.” Expressionless, as always, she reminded him almost of that Uchiha kid.

“ _Used to_. I’m not into _pickpockets_.” He’d bravely countered, watching as her lips lifted into a goddamned lopsided smile that, fuck, had his heart doing all sorts of gymnastics because _fuck_ , this girl, _this girl got him good_.

“ _You didn’t seem to mind when I was picking your pocket_.”

Perhaps that sentence had him put on his towel and usher his way out of the pond and back towards his quarters, making it his mission to stay the rest of the day in his room and he knew, she would be gone soon enough, and he’d be free of this seducing larcenist.

Kankuro, though not stupid by any means, was rarely ever _right_.

This was not an exception.

“You know, you have a really good face.” She’d observed on the third day of joining him in his quarters, “Like, good enough to be on a _ryo_. Too bad you hide it with the face paint.”

He’d snorted; the only thing on this girl’s mind was _ryo_.

“You think if I get rich enough I could buy a castle near Suna?” She’d inquired on the sixth day as she took a sip of tea, meanwhile he seemed to drown her out thanks to a second serving of beer; “Why Suna?” He’d shot back.

“So I can be near you.”

He knew of her intentions, and he was adamant of her intentions, and yet, his heart jumped and flipped and beat harder all at once, his stomach roared in delight and protest as he warned himself not to fall for her tricks though he had to admit; after six days, she hadn’t really tried anything, so perhaps he was being defensive for nothing? His lips pursed; this was probably just a trick.

Beneath the green hue of the water, he could watch her lips lift into a quirky smile while his remained settled into a firm line; was she aware of her effect on him, or did she believe him indifferent?

Eight days in and she began to slip into his bed at night, sneakily jumping from her bedroom window —which was conveniently beside his own— before she’d join his side; each and every time wearing a new excuse and Kankuro had grown tired of chasing her out, so he let her stay; forcing himself to believe he didn’t want her there, he just wanted _peace_.

 _Shikamaru had truly, affected him far too much_.

Twelve days in and she claimed they should be exploring the area, to search for ryo, and though he’d disagreed, he’d woken up the following morning, wore his clothes —conveniently forgetting to put on his face paint— before he went on a hike; he’d defensively claimed she had nothing to do with it, even as he allowed her to hang by his side, going as far as to latch herself onto him as she found a large pouch of ryo by the ground as they reached the peak of the mountain; it was safe to say, the mount was _not_ the only peaking thing.

For his _heartbeat_ , was too.

Thirteen days in and he’d come into the room to find her sitting on the bed, buried in his hoodie, urging his eyebrows to raise as he allowed himself a chuckle; “Ditzy, take that off, seriously, you look like a shrimp.”

But how could he further argue when she’d acclaimed he’d been gone too long, and it was the only thing which reminded her of him? His heart had began doing flips again and oh no, this was dangerous, she was dangerous, and he, he should not be getting attached!

Fifteen days in and they went to get dinner together, somehow, on their way back, they held hands; but that wasn’t even the best part, she’d paid, the stingy, greedy little brat had used the pouch of ryo she’d found and paid, all on her own will.

Perhaps Kankuro should not be acting so defensive.

Seventeen days in, and she waltzes in with a pack of money from having won forty-three poker games in the elderly lounge; he tries and convince her that that’s basically robbing old people, they don’t have the minds to play these games, but she assures him that they consented to the game and they had lost, and until proven wrong, it would remain their loss. Her warped logic had been applied to him once, and he doesn’t like old people anyway, so he lets her count the bills in peace.

Twenty-two days in and she’s finally telling him about her life; they’re laying down on the bed, she’s clutching his side, she feels small, weak, she doesn’t feel like the mastermind thief he knew, she’s shuddering, she’s cold, she tells him, she’s lived a life of misery up until she was thirteen, graduating the academy, she racketed through missions like a maniac to get some money but it wasn’t enough, it was never enough; she’s quickly asleep by the end of it, and Kankuro knows, he’s had it hard, not this type of hard, but he’s been through shit, his brother’s been through shit, and he’s never tried to help so perhaps, he can make his amends.

Only, twenty-three days in, and she doesn’t show up anymore.

He asks the bathhouse clerk and the kid, barely an adult, says she left that morning; he’s not sure where she went, she didn’t say, and Kankuro’s heart is ruined; somehow, this is worst than having his money stolen and his dignity shredded.

Twenty-five days in, and he’s cutting his vacation five days short and going back to Suna as though he’s being dragged there.

Gaara doesn’t understand, but then again, Kankuro doesn’t expect him to; the kid’s just a squirt1, especially in the human-relations domain, he’s as crude in the subject as it gets, but he’s worried for his big bro and Kankuro’s touched; and he looks at him, at the Kazekage he became and ruffles his hair, before assuring him it’ll be okay.

And maybe, he’s lying, sure, but who doesn’t lie? Besides, the memory of her was forgotten once, and it’d be easy to forget her again, even if the thing she stole this time was way more than just a few ryo bills.

It’s been, what? Five weeks? Since he’d gotten into the tavern, and under the assurance that he’s going to be fine, Gaara urges him to go unwind in the Sunagakure tavern and Kankuro’s adamant because, ugh _, that place reminds him of that one chick,_ and Gaara’s confused; “A chicken? In the tavern? Did it escape from the local butchery?” Kankuro chuckles, but ultimately, resigns to explaining the story to his kid brother.

And he’s confused; of course he would be, but the kid may be just a kid, but he’s a wise kid, and he tells Kankuro with a small smile that everything will be alright; and Kankuro trusts his brother now, they’ve settled their relationship, and he loves the little Kazekage, so he nods, smiling, because he believes him; everything’ll be okay.

Only, it’s not necessarily okay.

Because a thief is caught trying to break into the Kazekage mansion, and he’s the commander of troops and it’s under his surveillance that this thief is caught, and this thief is special, cause she’s got space-buns and her mask hovers on her eye and she looks at him with shock and surprise and he mirrors her expression; to see her face so expressive had been something he desired, not like this though, never like this.

She’s in for questioning and he’s the one doing the questioning because life likes to fuck with him like that, but he’s okay now, even if he’s not all that okay, he can handle this, handle her; he does his job with professionalism and he’s just serious about all of it; until she falls apart in front of him, explaining she was trying to break into his house, she was looking for him; she hadn’t given up on him, on them, whatever it was they represented, no, never, and she’s whining and crying and shouting for him to believe her; and it’s painful and it’s _shit_ , because Kankuro hasn’t felt this type of pain in a while.

It’s the type of pain his brother is quick to witness, and is quick to ask him; “Does it hurt, here?” His hand, small and delicate, fitting for his role, presses lightly onto his chest and Kankuro mirrors his movements with a calloused hand and a small, frail smile; “Yeah.”

A few days go by, and today, Kankuro’s allowed to go home early today because of a meeting between Gaara and the council; an afternoon off is a luxury he often doesn’t get to experience, and so, he heads home, heading straight there without heading for a beer first. Oddly enough, as he steps into the mansion he’d grown up in, the beer is on the counter, waiting for him.

Facing the dark bottle are a set of twin buns, worn by a girl he missed dearly, but dared not search for; he remained defensive, unsure of her intentions, and she clarifies them before he asks her to; she tells him she loves him, and Kankuro, though should be asking some questions, doesn’t bother to, because peach lips are stained purple and his lips are sticky wet with gloss, her hands are in his hair and he’s pushing her onto the counter, not bothering to pick up the broken beer bottle which seemed to fall onto the ground, dropping with a shatter that’s too dull to be heard between heavy breaths and loud heartbeats.

Later that night, everything’s so silent yet so loud, her hushed little breath is right against his arm and his lips are trailing kisses along her neck as he allows her to rest and as he closes his eyes, he allows himself the same luxury; Kankuro can’t recall the last time he’d slept this soundly.

 _Beneath a starry sky, while his wallet was being robbed off of golden ryo chips_.

Two years in and she’s still by his side— she supports Kankuro’s ideals against marriage but seems quite keen on creating some sort of document that stipulates that she is to inherit his fortune if he is to die, regardless of their unmarried status, and Kankuro, obviously, does not agree; she’s stolen his heart already, what other fortune could she possibly be after?!

“You know, back at the bar, they told me you used to be a smooth-talker back in the day,” She’d pointed out one day as they laid on the roof, well, he laid, she sat by his side, _counting ryo_.

“I am, you’re just too ryo-crazed to notice it, lolly.” He countered almost mechanically, lips lifted into a small smile as he watched her expertly count the bills and coins.

“You’re worth more than one billion ryo to me.” She spoke spontaneously, and he could simply watch as he expression remained completely still before he allowed himself to chuckle; “Is that so?”

“Okay no, but! It’s not like I’m ever going to be made the offer of choosing between you and one billion ryo so hypothetically, you are.” Lifting himself off the ground, Kankuro simply huffed as he leaned close, close enough to smell the lingering scent of beer from her lips; “I’d be mad at you for saying shit like that, but we met because of your ryo obsession so, I’ll let it slide.”

And perhaps, as he pressed his lips to hers beneath the moonlit skies he knew, and she did too, that _golden ryo coins_ were the very twist of destiny they both needed.

**Author's Note:**

> ¹: calling gaara 'squirt' is actually a shoutout to one of my favorite naruto authors i think, ever ?? and they're @a_gay_poster so please !! go check them out and read their fics they are absolutely perfect ! i just love how kankuro calls gaara squirt in all of them it's so precious !  
> okay so !! first ! this is the second installment of the whole destined to meet series ! i've decided to go with kankuro for the second part because !! kankuro !! give him more love !! i might go for either shino/kakashi next so i'm not sure, and i also really want to do lee but i'm not sure what i'll do so !! stay tuned !  
> as always ! constructive criticism is always welcome so go on ahead !


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